


Things Have Changed

by Pastel_Teacups



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: -Sort of, AU-Ethan and Justin Got Married, M/M, Sex in later chapters, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2599871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastel_Teacups/pseuds/Pastel_Teacups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin Taylor never broke up with Ethan, and instead they ran off to begin their life together. But Justin finds himself thinking of Brian more and more, and can't help but feel an enormous amount of both dread and excitement when he returns to Pittsburgh to spend Christmas and New Year's with his mother and, possibly, Brian Kinney.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Justin had overreacted, clearly. 

Ethan hadn’t meant any harm when he’d fucked the stranger at his concert that night. Giddy with his apparent success and drunk off new fame, he’d just wanted to celebrate. Justin would’ve done the very same thing, had he been in Ethan’s position. 

So he’d stayed, naturally, and eventually stayed indefinitely.

He tucked himself back into the closet for Ethan, watched him slowly rise to fame beneath the cover of separate hotel rooms and the careful mirage of friendship.

And, two years later (in the privacy of their apartment, a newer and more expensive one with windows opening up above New York City), Justin said yes to Ethan’s “long-overdue” marriage proposal. 

There was no ceremony, to keep their relationship as covert as possible, but Justin couldn’t find it in him to care. He was married to the love of his life, what’d it matter if nobody knew about it?

Occasionally Brian’s voice would sound like a bell in his head, alerting him that he couldn’t be more pathetic. 

He constantly pushed the smooth voice out and continued on, knowing that there was absolutely nothing wrong with this. He could still be the best homosexual possible, just without anybody else knowing it. 

There was no need for him to work after they’d left Pittsburgh, with Ethan’s new success, so Justin left school to work on his art until somebody recognized his potential and put him in a gallery. From there, it wasn’t very difficult to find others interested in his pieces. His art became more and more recognized, and before Justin knew it he and his art was being featured in various magazines, and galleries across America wanted his art on display. 

They were sickeningly happy, and rich enough to do whatever it was they wanted. They travelled the world together, stayed in expensive hotels, and made love in as many countries as they came across.

Something seemed to be lacking from Justin’s life, though. He could never place it. 

They were away so often, Justin found it harder and harder to picture Liberty Avenue, the diner, Pittsburgh. Even Brian’s loft seemed impossible to visualize completely, though bits and pieces often floated past his eyelids when it was dark and the other side of his bed was cold. 

Even still, he remembered the time he’d spent there fondly. He almost missed it, the feeling of Brian’s sheets and hands and lips against his bare skin in the dead of night. 

But he wasn’t allowed to think those thoughts, so he just rolled over and leaned against Ethan, trying to bar Brian from his mind altogether.

This never lasted very long, as Brian always managed to crawl back into his mind and make fun of his outfit or tell him that he was looking older every day. 

Part of him wanted that voice to be real, wanted Brian to say those things in that teasing tone of his as he came up from behind and twined his arms around Justin’s waist to tug him close and keep him safe.

This imaginary scene was sometimes reconstructed by Ethan, but his words were always too soft and his touches too gentle. 

Ethan was on an entirely different spectrum than Brian, and Justin found himself having to be reminded that such had been his whole reason of leaving Brian in the first place. Ethan was open and lovely and dedicated, while Brian was closed and hard around the edges. Formidable, absolutely. Beautiful, always. But seemingly immortal youth had never been a deciding factor in Justin’s relationships, nor did he even consider it a vital one. And, in terms of dedication, Brian didn’t have much to brag about. The decision was easy. 

The problem was trying not to regret it. 

It wasn’t Ethan. Despite his flaws, Justin loved him more than words could describe. Truly.

So why was it that he only got tongue-tied when thinking about Brian? 

He wasn’t sure what would happen should he ever have to see Brian again, and even the thought of being in the same city as him made Justin both shiver with almost-reproach and feel his heart jump in his chest.

So, when his mother called and suggested he and Ethan spend Christmas and New Year’s in Pittsburgh, he’d been extremely unsure about it. But, as he hadn’t ever confided these feelings to Ethan (he didn’t often feel content to bother him with things like this), he could only smile, confirm their apparent vacation, and watch Ethan book two seats on a Pittsburgh flight that would be taking off in just a week. 

A week to gather his feelings regarding Brian and bottle them up until after New Year’s. He could do that. 

Right?


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin visits his mother with Ethan, and runs into a loud, kind Italian woman who forces him to a diner. There, they run into another friend/enemy/lover/not-boyfriend/thing.

“Jesus, you’d think for two hundred dollars a night they’d have some nicer towels.” Ethan commented in exasperation, holding up a plain white bath towel. 

Justin sat up from where he’d been laying on the bed and reached out for Ethan’s hand, setting down the magazine he’d been reading just moments before. “Remember not too long ago when you couldn’t afford good towels in the first place, let alone _these_ towels?” He asked, tugging the offending towel out of Ethan’s grip and tossing it carelessly onto the ground. He pulled on his hand until they both fell back onto the bed, Ethan landing on top of Justin with a small “oof.”

He laughed, nodding softly in remembrance. “Yeah, yeah, I remember. Not a few blocks away from here, actually.” 

“It’s strange being back, isn’t it?” Justin asked softly, twining his arms around the brunette’s neck. “After all we’ve seen.” 

Ethan nodded, shifting until they were side by side and he could wrap an arm around Justin’s waist. “It’s like seeing a million ghosts.” 

Justin supposed he was thinking of one ghost in particular that Ethan didn’t have. He tried not to dwell on Brian’s face, handsome and immortal in a thousand different ways, and how broken it’d looked when he left Babylon with Ethan that night. 

But that had to have been his imagination. Brian Kinney didn’t get heartbroken. Brian Kinney fucked. No regrets, no mistakes, just mindless sex in whatever location, position, and surface he pleased. 

Brian hadn’t looked heartbroken. Maybe he’d been grateful. Most of Justin didn’t want to know. 

“Justin?” He found himself being tossed back into the merciless throws of reality by Ethan, who’d been looking over at him with his eyebrows raised. “Hey. What’re you thinking about?” 

“A piece.” Justin wasn’t sure what prompted him to form a lie so quickly, but it was too late to take it back. “Something I’ve been working on.” 

Ethan looked somewhat suspicious, as if he knew what Justin had _really_ been thinking about. It was Justin’s imagination. Had to be. It did seem to be running wild at that particular moment. “You’d better write it down somewhere. I know I have to.”

“You’re getting old,” Justin teased lightly, shoving Ethan’s shoulder playfully. “Stop complaining and lay down with me. I haven’t heard any complaints about the mattress, even last night you seemed relatively content with it.” 

Ethan grinned, leaning down to envelop Justin’s lips in an earth-stopping kiss. 

“As nice as that sounds,” he regarded when he reluctantly tugged away for air. “We’ll be late to your mother’s if I don’t call us a cab.” 

Justin leaned up on his elbows for one last kiss, smiling against the warmth of Ethan’s lips. He hummed contently, tangling his fingers into the violinist’s hair to keep him close. “You are absolutely _no_ fun.” 

“I know. Rigid as a wall, me.” Ethan murmured through his own smile, pressing a kiss to Justin’s forehead before standing. “And you’d better get ready. Unless, of course, you’re going in your pajamas.” 

\----

“It’s a pretty nice day out, for winter,” Jennifer had told them once they’d arrived at the house, already pulling on her coat. “Why don’t we go for a walk? I think Molly’s about ready to kill someone if she doesn’t get out of the house soon.” 

So they’d all set out for a walk in the park, Justin’s equally-blonde younger sister dashing through the melted, muddy snow in search of a white patch. 

“Well, tell me everything,” Jennifer said, keeping an eye on her daughter as she spoke. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen both of you, and I know that you went to Italy over the summer. Spill it.” 

Justin opened his mouth, about to tell the PG version of their endeavors, before he was interrupted by a shrill and unforgettable voice. 

“Sunshine!” 

Debbie. 

He turned to greet her with a bright smile, watching as she bustled over to them with a grin just as bright. “Hey, Deb.” 

She enveloped him in a rib-crushing hug, keeping him there until Justin was positive he would suffocate before he could politely ask her to stop.

“Oh, you little asshole, where’ve you been?” She demanded, finally pulling Justin away to hold him at arm’s length from her and slap his cheeks as gently as Debbie could manage. “It’s been months, we miss you!” 

“We?” Justin asked, raising an eyebrow. He found it hard to believe that the rest of their little group _actually_ missed him. 

Debbie looked sheepish. “Well, _I_ do. It doesn’t matter, you’re all coming to lunch at the diner. On me.” 

Jennifer smiled. “Molly’s got a playdate.” She told them regrettably, glancing over her shoulder at the girl. “-And it looks like she’s going to need a bath. We’ll have to pass. But you two should go.” She dismissed, waving her hands at them. “Go on. If there’s one thing Debbie’s good at, it’s feeding hungry people. And I’m sure you don’t want to go to Suzanne’s fifth birthday party.” 

They went only when Jennifer practically forced them out of the park, and Debbie demanded all the “dirty details” of their travels as they strolled down Liberty Avenue and towards the ever-famous diner. 

She only relented after she’d ducked into the warmth of the diner, Justin and Ethan trailing after her with identical looks crossed between disgust, amazement, and pure love for Debbie Novotny. 

She tugged off her coat to reveal her trademark t-shirt and vest, complete with ironic buttons and rude slogans. Today, ‘Just me and my dick.’ 

“Just sit wherever, honey, I’m sure you remember how the Liberty Diner works.” 

Justin had just taken Ethan’s hand to lead him to a booth, an easy sort of smile on his face, before the sound of a shattering coffee cup interrupted them. 

He looked towards the noise, only to come eye-to-eye with none other than Brian Kinney.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot of fun to write, but the next chapter will be even more fun, because that means I get to write tense scenes! Yay! I can't tell you how much your Kudos and Comments have upped my motivation to get to work on this story! I'm doing my best, and I hope I'm doing the plotline justice! 
> 
> The next Chapter should be up on Friday!


	3. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan and Justin don't fare too well in the unforgiving throws of the Liberty Diner.

Justin’s mind shorted. He didn’t know what to do, or how to draw his eyes away from Brian’s steely gray ones. A broken coffee cup sat on the floor beneath him, and coffee was slowly seeping in to Brian's probably-expensive shoes. Even still, he didn’t look away from Justin. 

Debbie swore heavily from some far off-place and barked out orders to someone, but Justin couldn’t hear them. He felt Ethan tug on his hand, but he couldn’t move either. 

Every moment, every dance and smile and kiss between he and Brian hit Justin like a ton of bricks and made it hard to catch his breath. 

Brian broke their toxic gaze first, and his face automatically snapped into his shit-eating, world-ending grin. 

“Sunshine. How lovely to see you and the fiddler again.” He spoke smoothly and easily, as if they were old friends. As he stood, broken ceramic crunched beneath his feet. “Ian, wasn’t it?” He asked as he passed, his eyes lingering on Justin's just a moment too long before he slid out the door and eventually out of sight. 

Justin wasn’t aware he was holding his breath until after Brian’s frame disappeared from the window, and he finally let Ethan tug him into a booth seat. 

“Justin?” Ethan called after a moment, waving a hand in front of his face. 

The world snapped back into focus, and Justin turned dazedly to his husband. “Sorry. Just . . . thinking.” 

Ethan watched him for a moment longer, concern obscuring his features. He looked like he was going to say something, but was interrupted (as most are) by Debbie. 

“I put in an order for two Pink Plate specials.” She announced proudly, setting two waters down on the table. “They’ll be just a few more minutes, so you two hang tight. Remember, no sex in the bathrooms.” 

She departed with a triumphant grin, said grin only slipping away when the cook yelled at ther to “pick up the damn pace, Deb!” 

Justin let this distract him a moment longer, his thoughts elsewhere, when Ethan’s voice again filled his ears. 

He tried not to feel disappointed when it wasn’t Brian’s. 

“What?” 

Ethan looked more than mildly put out. “I asked if you were okay.” 

Picking up his water, Justin realized with dread that his hand was shaking. “Yeah,” he promised too slowly, taking a careful sip. “Just thinking about that piece.” 

There was a distinct lack of questions, and Ethan knew. 

Justin only cleared his throat and persuaded his mind to start functioning normally again, slowly remembering to smile and nod and listen to Ethan like any award-winning husband would. 

Never once, though, did he forget about Brian. 

After he’d drifted back to reality the door’d opened, and Justin hadn’t noticed until somebody tapped him sharply on the shoulder. 

Turning, Justin came face to face with none other than Michael Novotny and, trailing behind him, Zen Ben himself. 

“What the hell are you doing here, you little shit?” Michael demanded, anger evident in his voice. 

Justin raised an eyebrow. “My mother lives in this town, too, you know.” 

“I don’t see her here,” Michael retorted quickly, his gaze lingering almost suspiciously on Ethan. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here, after what you did to Brian.” 

“Debbie invited us,” Ethan offered, not unhelpfully. 

“He’s a big boy, I’m sure he can handle it.” Justin told him, rolling his eyes. 

Michael opened his mouth and though Ben tugged on his hand, didn’t close it. “It doesn’t matter. You still walked out on him with the fiddler and left him without so much as saying goodbye.” 

“Order up!” Debbie called as she made her approach, an ever-present smile on her face. 

Justin stood. “We should go. Clearly we aren’t welcome.” 

He tugged a twenty from his wallet and offered it to Deb, who shook her head. 

“No, no, honey, it’s on me. Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” She asked, frowning. Justin gave an apologetic nod. 

He gave one last glance to Michael before grasping Ethan’s hand, leading him out of the diner and into the cool air. 

“Jesus,” Ethan murmured as Justin led him down the street, desperate to be anywhere but there. “And I thought you said you had friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! I hope you enjoyed! I really feel like "Ethan offered, not unhelpfully" is pretty much Ethan's entire aesthetic in the show (And this fic). 
> 
> The next chapter will be up on Friday!


	4. Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin confides in Daphne with his conflicted feelings.

Of course, it was Daphne Justin confided in. 

After giving her every last detail of his and Ethan’s travels (it was getting rather old to repeat), he finally reached the topic he’d truly come for. Brian. 

“Well, what about him?” Daphne asked, an eyebrow raised. She’d always been more than a bit pro-Brian, and her knowing grin gave both her and Justin away. 

Justin only then realized he had no idea how to describe his extremely conflicting feelings. “Well-” 

“You miss him, don’t you?” She concluded before he could begin his sentence, grin widening from behind her coffee mug. “I knew it. It’s about time, really.” 

Though Justin wanted to deny it, he knew such was useless in Daphne’s presence. “It’s just . . . strange, seeing him after all this time.” 

His best friend laughed, shaking her head in fond exasperation. “You are so pathetic! I knew you’d come back to him. You and Brian are magnetic.” 

“I’m still married to Ethan,” Justin reminded gently, though even he wasn’t sure that mattered to him anymore. 

Daphne shrugged. “Apples and pears, darling.” She told him, the smile still on her face. “So? What’re you going to do?” 

Justin pushed a hand through his hair. What _was_ he going to do? That seemed to be the question of the hour. The question of the house he couldn’t answer. 

“I don’t know. I’ve just been trying to . . . push it away. I didn’t have to think about it until I saw him.” 

They left the coffee shop together and ventured down the street, Justin avoiding Daphne’s eyes all the while. “Well, you can’t just let it build up. It’s bad for you.” 

“What do you suggest I do?” Justin resisted the urge to snap, instead speaking stiffly. “I can’t just show up and demand a deep discussion about our feelings.” 

Daphne appeared to be looking behind him and grinning widely. “Maybe he’ll come to you.” 

Justin felt sick. He slowly turned around, only to come face to face (or rather, face to chest) with Brian. 

Of course. 

“Sunshine, always good to see you.” Brian greeted in his mock-friendly voice. Behind him was Lindsey, carting a stroller and waving happily at him. “And Daphne, fuckable as ever.” 

Daphne _preened_ , allowing Brian to kiss her cheek with a serene smile. “Hey, Brian.” 

“Caught a glimpse of me at the diner and you were desperate for more. Typical.” Brian co concluded, an arm still hooked over Daphne’s shoulder. For some reason, it made him ache. 

He couldn’t think of a reply, only shoved his hands into his pockets and avoided Brian’s eyes like the plague. 

Brian raised an eyebrow, but didn’t let himself get discouraged. “Well, since you’re so eager to spend time with me, you’ll be happy to know that I have an entire wardrobe of tight t-shirts that are far too tacky to be mine, and a litany of other articles of clothing that could only belong to you. And, well, somebody’s got to get them out of my loft.” 

Justin looked up at the older man, surprise evident on his face. He nodded after a stunned moment. “Yeah. I can come on Monday, if that works for you.” 

Brian patted his shoulder lightly. “I’ll clear out and pre-Christmas guests around eight. You can come then.” 

His shoulder stung from where Brian had touched him, but he nodded in an attempt to look at ease. “I’ll be there.” 

Brian smiled, the way he smiled when he was quietly hurting but too proud to say. “Don’t be too late. I've got people to do that are more important than Ms. Starving Artist.” 

He turned to catch up with Lindsey, and Justin felt an undeniable surge of dread, nerves, fear, and a sort of twisted excitement. 

What had he just agreed to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This one was fun! Thanks for all the comments, I really enjoy reading them! 
> 
> Next chapter should be up on Friday!


	5. Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin comes to collect his clothes.

They were laying in bed, kissing like they were the last two on the planet and that was the way they liked it. Justin’s fingers tangled in his hair, his blue eyes dutifully shut as he leaned closer with a desperation for just one more touch, one more shift against his hands and the sheets and his mind. 

_Brian._

The singular thought ruptured the very moment, and he reluctantly pulled away and opened his eyes. 

Ethan’s own opened and watched him with careful concern, tugging the sheets up to ward the cold from their bare bodies. “What is it?” 

Justin smiled apologetically. In that moment, he was sure to win first prize at the Worst Person Ever awards. 

“I have to go,” he murmured into the silence of their hotel room, crawling out from under the covers and tugging on his jeans. “My mom wants to have dinner with me. Just us. It’s a-well, it’s a tradition we’ve done since I was a kid.” 

Ethan stood, tugging on his pants. “Let me walk you out.” 

“Oh,” Justin said, his guilt increasing by the second. “You don’t need to do that.” 

“Nonsense. I want to.” 

Hesitantly, Justin nodded and tugged his shirt over his head. 

Ten minutes later Justin gathered an empty bag under his coat and rode the elevator down. When they stepped out into the cold Ethan shivered, coatless, but held tightly to Justin’s hand. “When do you think you’ll be back?” 

Shrugging, Justin felt nauseous. “Hard to say. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours.” 

There was a tiny exchange of nods, before Ethan leaned forward in a moment of rare public affection and pressed his lips to Justin’s. 

Instead of making his thoughts stop, as these embraces used to, Justin was filled with an immeasurable amount of dread. When did he stop wanting Ethan’s kiss to last forever? 

Better yet, when did he start lying to Ethan? 

He pulled away after a too-short moment, smiling an entirely false smile. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Ethan murmured a soft goodbye and disentangled their fingers, leaving Justin to stroll down the street and wonder why he felt as if he was walking away from his happy marriage and into something horrible. He was only getting his clothes. Nothing would happen. 

He walked in uncomfortable, foreboding silence to Brian’s building, wishing that he was dreading this outing and not somewhat stirred by it. 

After he’d climbed the stairs and reached the door that had to lead to his inevitable demise, he hesitated. What was he thinking? Something had to be drawing him here, and it wasn’t the promise of his favorite sweater. 

But before he could overthink it, his fist was raising and he was knocking on Brian’s door. And said door had opened. 

There was Brian, his eyes skimming over Justin’s form the same way they always had; shamelessly. 

“Sunshine,” he greeted, stepping to the side to allow Justin in. “The bulk of your shit’s in the closet, but I’d look around a bit more if I were you.” 

He looked bored, leaning against the wall and watching Justin start towards the bedroom with an air of overconfidence, a mood Brian often gave off. “Did you have to sneak out to see little old me?” 

Justin didn’t answer, but that in itself already was one. 

Within fifteen minutes he’d gathered the last of his forgotten articles of clothing. Brian still lingered, and even though being in a close proximity to Brian felt terrifying he stepped as close as he could bear to the man to say goodbye and hopefully rid himself of Brian Kinney forever. 

“Get everything?” Brian drawled, his eyes burning into Justin’s head. 

Unconsciously, Justin pushed a hand through his hair. “Yeah. You hadn’t seen my-” 

But Brian’s eyes had caught on something else. 

“What’s that?” He asked, his smug arrogance gone at once. It took Justin a minute to realize what he was talking about, before it hit him.

The wedding ring. 

He let his hand fall to his side, and shrugged half-heartedly. “We got married.” 

Brian didn’t reach out to inspect the ring, didn’t murmur his condolences in usual Brian fashion. Instead, he did something else. 

He backed Justin further into the living quarters, until his back pressed to one of the wooden support beams and he was boxed in by Brian's arms. 

And then they were kissing with a sort of desperation Justin’d never felt before, and the bag in his hand slipped to the floor so he could tangle his fingers in Brian’s hair and scratch against his scalp. 

He needed to pull away. He needed to push Brian away or hit him or tell him off for kissing him in the first place, but he couldn't do any of these things. He was too paralyzed with sudden longing, desperate _needing_ , and he could only stand there. 

It all happened in a blur of memories, and there was an exchange of desperation and almost-love between them as Brian peeled off his shirt and tangled Justin in a web of horrors remedied only by his warm bed. 

It was angry, _they_ were angry, but there were also soft caresses and gently kisses between rough ones and the everlasting reminder that this was infinitely better, _he_ was infinitely better than Ethan. 

But, forty-five minutes later when Justin found himself laying in a bed that wasn’t his next to a man that could never _be_ his, the potential consequences of his actions dawned suddenly on him. 

What had he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Sorry I didn't post at the usual time, I've been out for most of the day. Anyways, thanks so much for the positive feedback this fic is receiving! Keep it up, I feed off of it! 
> 
> Next chapter will be up next Friday.


	6. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debbie invites everybody to Christmas dinner, including Mr. Violin and the Wife. And, also, Brian.

It hadn’t happened. 

In everyone’s eyes, it hadn’t happened. 

After it _had_ happened, though, while Brian watched him with an almost-smug look in his eyes Justin stood and quickly gathered his clothes, numbly finding his shoes and bag, not bothering with goodbyes as he tugged open the door and dashed down the stairs. 

He’d forgotten his jacket, but didn’t feel the cold biting his skin as he stalked down the street, eager to be absolutely anywhere but there. 

He hadn’t realized that the only alternative was going back to Ethan. 

An immense amount of guilt settled in his stomach at the mere thought of Ethan, likely waiting for him in the artificial comfort of their hotel room. What had Justin done? 

But, when he unlocked the door and stepped silently in, the lights were off. Justin could just barely make out Ethan’s form beneath the covers, sleeping soundly. The artist couldn’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief. 

He was exhausted, but he dragged himself to the shower and only crawled into bed when he was sure every last bit of Brian had been washed off of him. 

Ethan curled around him in sleep, and the guilt weighing in Justin’s chest was suffocating. 

At the customary Christmas Eve lunch, Ethan pingponged between playing a game with Molly and talking to his mother conversationally. It was nice, until he started asking questions. 

“How was your dinner last night?” Happened to be one of them, his eyes on Jennifer with a pleasantly oblivious smile. Justin felt sick.

The woman gave a glance to Justin, who returned with a desperate, “please-play-along” look on his face. 

She gave him a look of her own in response, but turned back to Ethan with an unflinching smile. “Oh, it was lovely.”

“I think it’s such a wonderful tradition to keep. What restaurant did you go to?”

Justin jumped in before his cover was blown. “It was this really nice place, pretty far out from town.” He explained. 

Ethan didn’t bother asking the name of the restaurant. They were all aware he’d been too poor to know of any nice places very far outside the city. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time. I’d be happy to babysit next year, if you need it.” 

“That’s very kind of you.” She murmured thoughtfully, standing. “Justin, would you help me clean some things up in the kitchen?” 

Only when they were safely out of Ethan’s earshot did Jennifer turn to her son with an angry sort of inquiry on her face. “Are you planning on explaining why you just made me lie in front of my children and your husband?” She demanded, hands on her hips.

Justin _desperately_ didn’t want his mother of all people to know he spent the night cheating on the man he was married to, but it seemed he had no choice. He sighed a deep sort of sigh and avoided his mother’s eyes. “I was with Brian.” 

For some reason, Jennifer didn’t look surprised. Why didn’t she look surprised? 

“I figured.” She said, rinsing off a dish and setting it down in a sink. “Did you-” 

He could lie. He could tell her he’d just gone to pick up his clothes and wash his hands of this forever. But it didn’t seem right. “It won’t happen again.” 

“Jesus, Justin.” 

Closing his eyes, he tried not to think too hard about it. His head hurt enough already. “It was an accident. I wasn’t thinking.” He tried to defend softly, pushing a hand through his hair. 

“Well, you’d better start thinking.” She said sternly, turning back to the dishes with a sigh. “I thought you really loved Ethan.” 

“I did,” Justin promised quickly, setting a plate in the dishwasher gently. “I do. It just . . . I don’t know. It’s different. With Brian. It’s hard to explain.” 

“Can you explain it to yourself?” She asked quietly, concern in her voice. “You know I just want you to be happy. No matter what you decide, I’ll support you. But you need to figure it out before you lose the one you really care about.” 

\----

Christmas came and went in a blink, and before Justin knew it the year was spiraling towards an end. He’d received a set of beautiful pencils and paints from his mother (“And me!” Molly’d chimed in) and a warm, expensive sweater from Ethan. 

Though he loved it, he couldn’t help but feel like it was just a little impersonal for two years of (mostly) devoted marriage. 

The day was spent at home, but for dinner they’d all been invited to Debbie’s house (“even you and Mr. Violin, you little shit!”), so they all packed into the car and drove off. 

At Debbie’s, every last gay in Pittsburgh seemed to be piled into the house. Well, mostly their family of certain homosexuals, but it seemed a lot bigger than it did on the crowded floors of Babylon. 

Emmett hugged him tightly enough to kill when he first walked in, Ted rolled his eyes, Michael dutifully ignored him, and Brian gave him a smile that was all-too smug. 

After making their rounds Justin sank gratefully into the couch, a drink held in his hand. The tree flickered in front of him, reminding him of Christmas Cheer. He hated it. 

Not five minutes later, Justin felt the other side of the couch dip with the weight of a newcomer, and he turned his head only to meet with Brian’s undeniably beautiful features. 

His eyes involuntarily flicked to Ethan, who appeared to be engaged in deep conversation with Melanie. He didn’t look Justin’s way.

“What do you want?” Justin murmured quietly into his drink, desperate to not be overheard. 

Brian shifted beside him. Justin longed to reach out and touch, to pull him in and cause a scene. 

Instead he just turned back to the tree, taking it all in. After a prolonged moment, he heard Brian’s voice sound from beside him. “I can’t say hello to my most recent fuck?” 

Justin’s body went rigid, and he forced himself to relax again. He took a sip of his drink and though it was strong, it sent an easy kind of warmth through him. 

“It won’t happen again.” 

“No?” 

“ _No._ ” Justin confirmed stubbornly, almost able to _hear_ Brian’s smug grin. “It was a mistake.” 

“I don’t need to make mistakes.” Brian countered quickly. 

“Well, we can’t all be as perfect as you.” Justin snapped, anger bubbling beneath his skin.

Brian laughed, took a swig of his drink, and leaned in closely. “My offers only stand for so long, Taylor. You of all people should know that.” 

Justin stood, draining what was left of his drink and setting it down on the table. 

 

He slipped outside, unnoticed by the group as a whole. He’d left his coat, and the snow blanketing everything sent Justin into a seemingly permanent shiver.

That is, until something warm wrapped around his shoulders. 

Ethan’s jacket is just slightly larger than his, but it’s a world away from the unforgiving cold as Justin tugged it about himself and murmured a quiet thanks. 

“I figured you could use it more than me.” The violinist replied quietly, and it felt like a shout into the void of Justin’s comprehension. “Are you alright? You seemed a little off in there.” 

He wrapped an arm around Justin’s shoulders, and in his warmth he vaguely remembered that _this_ was why he married Ethan, for the warmth and the love that Brian could never provide. 

When did he start comparing Ethan to Brian? 

“Ethan?” Justin murmured softly into his husband, trying to make it sound less like a guilty confession. 

He made an affirmative noise to indicate that he was listening, and Justin took a deep breath. 

“What if you were in love with someone else?” 

Ethan paused, eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?” 

“Other than me. What would you do?” 

He appeared to consider it, before shrugging. “I think it depends.” 

“On what?” Justin asked slowly, unwilling to face Ethan entirely. 

Shaking his head, Ethan looked out into the snow. “Who I loved more.” 

Who _did_ he love more?

Two days after that dinner, Justin slipped out of their hotel room in the dead of night only to wind up, again, in the loft. 

Memories lingered everywhere. The first time he’d spent the night, the afternoon they pushed away the furniture so that they could dance like they did at a prom he couldn’t remember, the countless nights spent together with a distinct _oneness_ between them. 

And of course Brian was there, with his piercing eyes and not-quite loving gaze as he stepped closer and pulled Justin in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This was for some reason painful to edit, but I powered through! 
> 
> Next chapter should be up on Friday!


	7. Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Ethan return to their apartment in New York. Not everything goes as planned.

Justin blinked, and the Christmas season was over and, before they knew it, the New Year had begun and they were mere days away from their departure. 

Through all of this, though, Justin had yet to sort through his feelings. And there were more than enough of them to sort through. 

The days between Christmas and New Years were spent with Ethan and his mother, smiling and pretending to be perfectly alright. 

The nights however, were spent a bit differently. 

Every dark evening he would slip from their hotel room and take silent steps down the snowy streets, walk the road to almost-hell but mostly-heaven. 

And Brian was always there. 

So that was how he lived, every day and night stretching into one indiscernible tangle of sheets and false smiles and rings. 

It wasn’t always sex they had. Sometimes Brian simply laid him down and told him to sleep.

Other times, they talk. 

Never about Ethan directly, but there always seemed like an understanding between them that the name was something like a dirty word. It was a tension Justin was sure would snap sooner or later. 

One night, it does. But not in the way Justin expected. 

It was silent, the two of them laying on Brian’s better-than-a-hotel-sheets, when his smooth voice sounded from beside Justin.

“You’re going back with him.” 

Justin’s fingers - which had been tracing idle pattern across Brian’s chest - stilled. It wasn’t a question. 

He shifted so that he could rest his head against Brian’s chest, resolutely avoiding eye contact. “I have to.” 

Brian laid there a moment longer, silent, before moving to stand abruptly. Justin was nudged off of him roughly, and his heart _ached._

“Well,” he turned to walk towards the bathroom. “Nobody here’s stopping you. Have fun in New York with the fiddler.” 

He shut the door with a resounding slam, and it rang in Justin’s ears as he sat up and tugged on his shirt. 

He wasn’t welcome any longer. That much was obvious. 

Two days later Justin found himself standing in a crowded airport gate, desperately clutching a cup of coffee in his hand. It was hot enough to burn his tongue and fingers, but he couldn’t feel anything. The ring around his finger, though, seared his skin. He was certain there’d be a scar beneath it.

“Justin?” A voice that wasn’t Brian’s sounded, and when he turned to look at his husband, he tried to hide his desperation. 

He couldn’t remember the question. “What?” 

Ethan looked at him with a kind of careful contempt. “They’re boarding. I asked you if you were ready to go.” 

_No._

Justin didn’t want to get on that plane. He wanted to run, to abandon his bag and everything he’d built up with Ethan. 

But that was _insane_. 

Something had to be wrong with him. There had to be a psychological explanation for his scattered feelings. 

Maybe he was crazy.

But his brain only continued with its current string of thought: _BrianBrianBrianBrianBrian._

“Yeah.” He murmured finally, standing up and shouldering his bag. 

It was this town. It had to be. He had to get out, then he and Ethan could finally be happy, like they had been before this entire ordeal. 

Right? 

They boarded the plane with unintentional silence, and when they sat down Ethan took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. 

Fifty-five minutes later Pittsburgh was behind them (hopefully forever) and Ethan was hailing a cab. 

Justin should have been feeling better, but nothing had changed. 

\----

“It’s nice to be home, right?” Ethan asked as he unlocked the door to their apartment, tossing his bag on the couch ceremoniously. “There’s nothing better than coming back after a long trip.” 

Nodding in vague agreement, Justin was lost in this place. It couldn’t be his home. 

But then he walked in.

The door closed behind him.

It was too late. 

\----

“Shit. _Shit!_ ” 

Justin hadn’t slept since the last night he spent with Brian, and absolutely nothing had changed. As such, he was awake when Ethan began swearing rapidly from the living room in an uncharacteristic bout of anger. 

Padding out of the bedroom in his pajamas, Justin did his best to look more like he’d been sleeping and less like he’d been laying in bed and thinking of Brian’s lips. “What is it?” 

Ethan wasn’t upset, he was downright _furious._ Justin was almost afraid. 

“Look at what my publicist sent me.” He ordered, pushing the laptop in Justin’s direction. 

The headline is more than enough. 

_Rising Violinist Ethan Gold is a Homosexual? Exclusive Photos Here!_

Beneath this was a grainy photo of Ethan, coatless and pajama-clad, pressing his lips to none other than Justin Taylor(AKA “Upcoming Artist”).

Justin didn’t care. He couldn’t find it in him to do so, at that moment. He wanted to, desperately. But he just. . .didn’t. 

Ethan didn’t seem to notice his not caring, too busy standing from his chair and pacing. “This is going to ruin everything.” 

“You can still be successful.” Justin murmured. 

Ethan gave him a piercing look. “My whole deal was working around this, Justin!” He yelled, turning away from the blonde. “This was such a mistake, we should never have done this, I-” 

“Hang on,” Justin spoke up, shaking his head softly. “I thought we did this because we loved each other. Because we would be together no matter what.” 

“How do you expect to pay the rent, Justin?” Ethan asked, voice rising higher and higher. “Pay for your studio? This is going to ruin me. Everything.” 

Justin doesn’t love him. Couldn’t. 

A glass broke against the wall behind him, and Justin knew it was over. 

The bedroom was small. A temporary safe house, but it was long enough for Justin to get dressed and zip up his yet-unpacked suitcase. 

He tugged on his shoes and pulled the door open. He slipped out as quietly as he could, Ethan’s rage disappearing behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are now entering the near-end chapters of this fic! It's sad, but also a little exciting. I hope you enjoyed this one! 
> 
> Next chapter will be up on Friday.


	8. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin comes home, but something's still not right.

“Hey, kid.” 

Justin came up from his daze and turned to the cab driver, who nodded towards the window boredly.

“We’re here.” 

He paid the cab driver and took his bag from the trunk, looking around. His mind had cleared somewhat during the long ride there, but his thoughts remained slightly cloudy. He’d sort it out later. He knocked on the door. 

“I’m sorry, we don’t-Justin?” Jennifer gaped at him for a surprised moment, before taking in his exhausted appearance and ushering him in. 

She didn’t ask questions, only steered him towards the guest bedroom and turned down his sheets. 

Justin slept, and though the time was short he felt better than he had in a long time. 

\----

 

Alone if only for a moment after he woke up again, Justin contemplated his wedding band. 

Silver, it was bought when the two of them could hardly afford good, let alone real rings. They could never have afforded real rings, and they’ll never need to now. 

Things were better then. He had loved Ethan, once. Something in him, in _them_ , had changed. 

Silently, he slipped the ring off of his finger and left it on the bedside table. A small tan line rested on his finger, a semi-temporary reminder of the love that once was there. 

After another few hours of attempted rest, Justin finally dragged himself out of bed and into the main room to lower himself onto the couch and tell his mother all that’d happened, including his slight affair with Brian. 

“Oh, honey,” she murmured after he’d finished, shaking her head in pity. “I’m sorry. You know you can stay here as long as you need.” 

“I’m not going back to him.” Justin said decisively, and Jennifer nodded. 

“I don’t blame you, after all that’s happened.” 

Justin smiled falsely. He was missing something. 

_Brian._

And he knew what he had to do.

He had to see him, if just one more time. And then he could move on. 

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Thanks to everyone who's been keeping up on this story! 
> 
> The next (and final) chapter will be up on Friday!


	9. Home, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian can't believe it.

Brian was having a Grade A shit day. 

He had a client who stubbornly believed that the “conventional look” would sell more, Cynthia was out so there was nobody to do the work part of his job, and to top it all off his best pair of shoes had yet to be clean due to the coffee/Justin incident. 

And Justin was gone. But that was different. 

He came home in a fantastically bad mood, and didn’t care enough to do anything but kick off his shoes and catch up on his sleeping and smoking indoors. 

Before he could do anything other than change clothes, however, somebody knocked on his door. 

He was so, _so_ tempted to not answer, but he was positive that anybody knocking would most likely let themselves in anyways. So he walked over and tugged the door open. 

Justin. 

He looked nervous and alone, standing there at Brian’s threshold. 

Though they’re both older (not _much_ older), Brian was reminded of the first night they’d spent together. Justin, scared shitless, lingering in his doorway. 

He almost smiled at the memory. 

But time had passed. Things had changed. Justin wasn’t the terrified teenager he once was.

“I thought you left with Mrs. Fiddler.” He said, his voice smug and smooth as ever. 

Justin looked down. “I did. I just . . . I couldn’t stay with him. I don’t love him.” 

It wasn’t too much of a shock. After all, he had assisted in Justin’s affair. Even still, it sparked a bit of nonexistent hope in Brian’s chest. “And?” 

“And,” Justin slowly raised his eyes to Brian’s. “It’s you. It’s always been you.” 

He wanted to be smug. He _really_ did. But he could only reach an arm around Justin’s waist, dragging him forward and claiming Justin’s lips in a searing kiss. 

Six months later, when Brian stumbled across a magazine article on the “talentless, gay Gold,” he couldn’t help but laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed, and I'd love to hear your feedback! Thanks!


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